


love is a ghost you can't control

by hansens



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, M/M, i'm crying while typing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansens/pseuds/hansens
Summary: And I know, the scariest part is letting go.(a songfic)





	love is a ghost you can't control

**Author's Note:**

> this work is inspired by "the words" by christina perri. 
> 
> enjoy!

_All of the lights land on you_  
The rest of the world fades from view  
And all of the love I see,  
Please, please, say you feel it too

Lewis Nixon used to stand tall at his father’s fancy dinner parties, smiling through the crowd like the brilliant, charming son they all expected him to be; he used to be able to go out into the world and explore all that he can, insisting that he’s looking for adventure instead of running away; he used to keep his wits about him in the midst of a war, gathering information and analyzing data so that the boys on the frontline could make it home to their mothers; he used to be something. A _somebody_ , even.

Now he haunts the halls of his own home, dragging the stench of whisky and year-old dread as he walks. Now he is nothing.

But one day he checks his mailbox – it’s the only exercise he ever gets – and finds a letter among the piles of newspapers and advertisements. He almost drops his bottle of whisky on the grass.

He runs inside and closes the door, a dim light hanging above him. His sofa has formed a Lewis Nixon-sized crease, and he sits on it to maintain the shape. He smells the paper and runs his hands through the edges; Dick’s pristine handwriting catches his eye.

_Dear Lewis,_

Goddamnit, it’s Lew. It’s _always_ been _Lew_.

_How are you? I hope my letter finds you, alive and hopefully sober, though I doubt it. I’m sorry for not writing for a while; the farm’s been busy, and Richard Jr. just turned five and is starting school. You can imagine how hectic it can be._

Lew’s jaw clenches.

_Will you be home next Monday? I have a week off and it’s been too long. New Jersey’s just four hours away._

Lewis catches his breath and feels a hollow beating in his chest. Dick is going home. To him. Lew doesn’t stop the memories that flood his drunken mind – of prolonged glances above army sand tables, of shoulders pressed together in tiny foxholes, of dry jokes on sleepless nights at one or the other’s billeted room, and eventually, after they leave the hell behind them, of hidden touches and stolen kisses at Lew’s office across his father’s.

He gets caught in his elation and breaks out into a smile, forgetting to read the rest of Dick’s letter.

_Ethel and the kids will come with. I’ve told them all about you – the good things, don’t worry – and they can’t wait to finally meet Uncle Lew. We’ll see you in three days._

_With regards,_

_Dick_

***

 _And all of the noise I hear inside_  
Restless and loud, unspoken and wild  
And all that you need to say to make it all go away  
Is that you feel the same way too

Lewis rereads the letter a dozen times, if only to make sure that it’s real. He does not skip the last part but secretly wishes he could suddenly turn blind. But it does not matter anyway. All that matters to him is Dick, _his_ Dick, back in his arms.

He walks around the large house – empty and void – and bitterly uses it as a metaphor for his own beating heart. ~~He always fancied himself a poet~~.

Every corner reminds Lew of him.

Lewis imagines Dick lounging on the sofa with the lampshade on, a pocket book in his hand, knobby fingers turning each yellowing page gently; imagines Dick bent over the wilting flowers on his garden, eyes focused on keeping the hydrangeas bright and alive; imagines Dick taking a swim at the nearby lake, the dots on his skin bursting wildly under the heat of the morning sun; imagines Dick cooking a Winters family recipe at the kitchen Lew now barely touches; imagines Dick, sitting on his bed, smiling and drawing circles on Lew’s arm.

Lewis imagines Dick, still in love with him.

***

 _And I know, the scariest part is letting go_  
‘Cause love is a ghost you can’t control  
I promise you the truth can’t hurt us now  
So let the words slip out of your mouth

Lewis recalls the first time Dick told him he loved him.

It was Austria, at the porch of Dick’s fancy hotel room. There was a view of the bright green hills, trees peppering its sides, and a crystal blue lake that from a certain angle looks like it could go on forever. Lew had his elbows on the railing, the rest of the world as his backdrop, a cigarette in his mouth.

Their arms had touched lightly as Dick peered into the view.

_I filed for a transfer._

_For what?_

_The 13 th Airborne. They’re going to the Pacific straight away._

_What?_

_I want to help as much as I can, as soon as possible._

Lewis remembers cursing Dick. Dick and his selfless freckled ass. Dick and his need to save the world. Dick and his endless heroism and _goddamn it_ , Lewis is not letting that redhead get away from him that easy.

“Well, then, let’s go.” Dick’s eyes had widened at that, mouth parted.

“Lew, you don’t have to –“

“I do, Dick. I do.” His voice was as firm as he could have made it. Dick’s face had melted into a smile that only few got to see; Lewis always felt lucky to be at the receiving end of those bright eyes.

_God, I love you._

Dick had said it under his breath as he turned away, intended only for himself, but Lewis had heard it – loud and clear, like the church bells on Sundays when his mother would make him pray to a God that he never believed in.

Lewis remembers the pounding in his chest and the stupid grin on his mouth and the feeling of having won a war, and getting ready to jump into another one with the love of your life.

***

 _And all of the steps that led me to you_  
And all of the hell I had you walk through  
But I wouldn’t trade a day for the chance to say  
My love, I’m in love with you

Lewis stops at the bathroom and the dam gives away.

He remembers why Dick fell out of love with him in the first place; ironically, he is holding it.

He recalls the long, depressing nights of going home, stumbling over his feet and falling on Dick’s tired arms. Slurring his words and clumsily leaving sloppy kisses on the corner of the redhead’s mouth. Vomiting in the bathroom, gripping the seat tightly as sweat drips from his forehead. Hands on his back and a disapproving look.

He’d tried to recover, he did. But addiction is a tricky thing.

Lewis kept falling back into the alcohol, always begging – _just_ one _more, one little sip, just this once, and I’ll stop, I promise_ – and Dick, who’d always kept his mouth shut about Lew’s drinking problem, storming out of the house and going nights without coming home.

Dick, with his seemingly unending patience and inability to back down from a fight, telling Lewis _he can’t_ with a pained look in his eyes.

***

 _I know that we’re both afraid_  
We both made the same mistakes  
An open heart is an open wound to you

“People look. People talk. And then you get killed.”

Lewis remembers the conversations deep in the night, when he’s sober enough to have a fully-functioning brain and Dick is worrying, as he always did those days. Dick’s furrowed eyebrows, whispering into Lew’s shirt about the homosexual boy that he’d found beaten to death in a ditch when he was ten; with every word he’d said, his grip on Lew’s waist tightened.

It was the depressing truth.

Lewis had tried to argue, had said that they were going to be fine, and Dick was almost convinced. But one day the newspaper bore a homophobic headline and the picture of middle-aged men in handcuffs, pushed and prodded by civilians and police alike.

Lewis remembers the anger, the pure _rage_ boiling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that in no world – no universe – could they truly be happy together.

That night he had kissed Dick harder.

***

 _And in the wind there’s a heavy choice_  
Love is a quiet voice  
Still your mind  
Now I’m yours to choose

One day, Dick’s bags are just packed. They’d shaken their hands in a semi-mutual agreement, as if they were two businessmen instead of two lovers whom the world spited and pulled apart.

“Stay.” Lew had begged, one last time.

Dick squeezed his hand and walked away.

Seventeen months later (not that Lewis was counting), Dick sends him an invitation to his wedding. Lew had sobbed quietly into his pillow as he gripped the paper in his hand, thumb running over his name that was preceded by the words ‘best man.’

***

_Let my love be the light that guides you home_

Lewis was bitter – still is, he must admit – about how Dick had moved on without him.

It’s been almost ten years. All he can think of is freckled skin beneath his fingertips and hair that burns like fire.

***

_And I know_

Monday. Lewis hears a voice at the doorway, calm and familiar and _him_.

***

_The scariest part is letting go_

Lew finds the courage to open the door and there he is – bright hair and bright eyes, holding a smile he reserves just for him.

***

_‘Cause love is a ghost you can’t control_

Lewis’ chest almost bursts at the sight of the three figures behind Dick – _his_ Dick. He smiles at Ethel Winters ( _no, no, no_ , _I can’t do this_ ) and she plants a kiss on his cheek. Lewis understands how Dick fell in love with her: she’s beautiful and kind and has the most tender touches; everything Lewis is not.

A boy that looks just like Dick and a girl with her mother’s hair hugs him on the legs, calls him “Uncle Lew” and he croaks out a weak reply.

He sees the life Dick has made without him, and watches his world shatter into a million pieces.

Lewis, with the strength he has left, directs the family upstairs. The kids are so active, running up the staircase with their mother trailing behind them.

***

_I promise you the truth can’t hurt us now_

An arm grabs Lewis, firm and strong, and he catches his breath. He stares at a pair of pale blue eyes that holds the same intensity he was drawn to all those years ago. Dick’s face is so close, _too close_.

***

_So let the words slip out of your mouth_

“I’ve missed you.” Dick’s voice is husky and low, strained by the years that passed the both of them by.

Lewis’ head starts to spin so he closes his eyes. Dick’s lips settle on Lew’s cheek, lingering for a while, and Lewis knows that the kiss is not one shared by lovers: this is a kiss goodbye. When he opens his eyes, Dick is gone; he’d already followed his family upstairs.

Lew stares dumbly at the wall opposite him, hands hovering over the spot where Dick’s mouth had been.

It burns, but Lewis would gladly light himself on fire if it meant that Dick Winters’ lips could touch him that way again.

 

 


End file.
